2 #2
“I should probably get going,” I tell the two. They both nod, then go back to looking at their phones.
**
I’m walking to my front door when I see movers at my neighbor's house.
It looks like someone's moving in. I move to get a closer look and see Isaac, wearing a Nirvana shirt, black wolfcut, he looks amazing.
He spots me looking and waves at me. What is he doing back from college? I wave back at him, smiling at him.
“Lara!” he calls out. I haven’t seen him in a year, which is crazy because we hung out every day. I walk across our yard, now standing in front of him. He pulls me into a tight hug, which catches me off guard, he ruffles my hair.
“I missed you, Larva.” I smile. He’s about 7 inches taller than me; he’s a little shorter than Scotty, though. I remember Isaac always made fun of how short he was, then Scotty grew taller than him.
“I missed you, too,” I tell him. He still smells the same, like cinnamon. Scotty smells like grapefruit. They are completely different.
“What happened to college?” I ask, I look at his house, it’s as big as ours, almost identical, but they have a navy blue house. Their garden isn’t as well-kept as it usually is. They always had the nicer flowers, but right now ours are looking better.
“My dad died, so I’m staying with my mom for a while.” My heart stops, and the silence is loud.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s okay, he’s always been a shithead.” His dad used to hit him. I remember it clearly when he didn’t know I was in the room.
“How did he die?” Why on earth would I ask that? That’s the worst thing someone can ask when someone dies. God, I am an idiot.
“He died of alcohol poisoning. He was a big drinker. You know him.” He laughs dully. I feel so sorry for him, even knowing he never liked his dad. His dad was a huge alcoholic.
“I’m sorry, Isaac, if you need anything, we’re right next door,” I tell him, giving him a soft smile and a soft squeeze on his arm.
“Thank you, Larva.” He pulls out his phone. “Let me get your number.” I pull out my phone and open a new contact, putting Isaac’s name. I hand my phone. He quickly types his number into my phone, then hands it back.
“I’ll text you!” I call out before I walk away. Right as I shut my door, I lean my back against it and shoot a text. Hi, this is Lara. I smile at the immediate response. Hi, Larva, this is Isaac.
5 years later
‘From the Dining Table’
— Harry Styles
Scott
I dread every morning I wake up, wishing I would wake up 5 years ago to fix everything.
For years, I texted Lara’s old number. Sometimes, when I had a good day, even when I’ve had a bad one.
I stopped expecting a response a long time ago, but I never stopped wishing for one.
Texting her number every day feels like something straight out of some silly romcom.
I feel like it’s a good way of coping. It’s not like she’s dead, but it feels like it.
It only feels that way because I can’t reach out to her.
This was my mistake, my choice. I have to live with it.
I just got a huge win on my first basketball game on a new team.
I moved to New York because of my draft, but I also agreed in a heartbeat because Lara was going to NYU.
I saw on her social media, she has a social life—friends.
I’m glad she found herself instead of being pushed around her whole life.
I’m hoping one of these days I’ll bump into her and I can finally say everything I’ve been holding in for a long time.
New York is huge, it’s way different than our small little town.
My mom texts me congratulating me on my big win. I guess she saw the news. I don’t respond, though, since everything happened, I’ve been pushing my family away. They still keep trying. I feel bad for ignoring them, but it’s what I do now.
My phone lights up with a text. Missing you Scotty. Danny said with an attachment of an image. I click on it to see a group photo of him and Ashton, wearing ugly-ass tropical button-up shirts. They are on vacation together, I was invited, but I need to stay for my new career.
I keep trying to convince Danny to move to NYC. I’m so lonely here. All I’ve been doing is drinking and playing basketball.
Drinking a lot isn’t good for my appearance, but I’m already popular with the ladies. I see edits of me online all the time. I'm a woman's new ‘celebrity’ crush, and I'm a young boy's new inspiration. I privated all my posts from high school, which were my photo dumps and pictures of Lara and me.
I read the messages I send Lara when I’m sad.
I fucking love you, Butterfly. The most recent one, I’d never tell her I’d love her to her face again.
I’ll never call her Butterfly again. The nickname isn’t fitting anymore; it’s just one of the things I need to learn to grow out of.
I doubt she’d ever call me ‘Scotty’ again.
I’m fine with it, I guess. It’s my fault we aren’t together anymore, so it’s whatever.
I dragged myself out of bed that morning, I was dreading the day in front of me.
I grabbed some coffee down the street and headed straight towards a local bookstore.
I’m mostly at the book shop just because I want to buy Lara’s novel.
Sure enough, there’s a pop-up stand of her novel.
‘Betting on our love’ I pick up the book and examine the cover.
Little pink butterflies decorate the front cover. I smile slightly.
I look at the back, a book about fake dating your enemy.
I remember her showing me her writing this book; she’s been working on it forever.
Seeing her name on a book makes me so proud of her.
It also makes me remember the times she would tell me everything going on in her books.
One time, I tormented her at the school library about the book she was reading just to spend more time talking to her. Those were the good times.
“Do you like romance books?” A worker asks from behind me. I jump, setting the book down. I turn around at the blue-haired worker.
“Just this one in particular.” I pick the book back up, showing it to her.
“Why that one?” she asks. “I mean, I know Lara is an amazing author. She did a book signing last week. Isn’t it crazy how her debut book is already so popular?” I nod, the corner of my mouth lifting up into a smile. This lady sure does talk a lot.
“She worked on it for years,” I tell the woman.
“Did you know her?” I read the lady’s name tag. Maggie. She seems nice, I'm not really digging the blue hair, though, or the big chunky black boots.
“I did, in high school.” I think about all the laughs we shared, how I dreaded our time apart.
“That’s cool! I mean, her writing is absolutely beautiful. I can’t believe you know her. I’m in love with what she’s written.” Maggie says, “Can I get your number?”
“I’m not looking for anything right now,” I tell her, letting her down easy just in case she thinks this will go anywhere.
“Oh no, I’m lesbian.” Ohhh. I pull out my phone, and we exchange numbers
“Perfect, we should get drinks sometime,” Maggie says.
“I’m new to the city, so that would be amazing. I don’t know anyone yet.” I tell her.
“But you know Lara?” she says, confused.
“I knew her.” I don’t know her anymore.